Perhaps more than any other artist we've heard thus far, Nina Simone defies categorization. Do we set her against the other female vocalists we've heard? On this album she sings the blues—ought we compare her to Louis? But of course, she was also a talented pianist, and we've heard a few of those as well; maybe they're a better fit?

The answer, of course, is obvious: any attempt to confine such a singular artist to a particular label is an exercise in futility. Simone's own description of her work was "black classical music […] It's a combination of gospel, pop, love songs, political songs, so it is black-oriented classical music, that's what it is." I wasn't aware of how deep her classical music training ran—Simone loved Bach in particular, and that influence isn't hard to hear in this fugal interlude from one of her live performances.

In Nina Simone Sings the Blues, we only get a small slice of her oeuvre (lacking many of her best-known songs), but it's a worthy one nonetheless. This week, let me take you through my favourite tracks from the album.

Buck

This song isn't even two minutes long, but Simone still manages to pack a lot in. The flirty lyrics and light-hearted, breezy vocals make it a fun listen, but my favourite part is the opening organ riff that forms the backbone of the song: it's such a groovy saunter down the keys, and a total earworm.

I Want a Little Sugar in My Bowl

If "Buck" was suggestive, this one is downright filthy—the lyrics aren't subtle in their innuendo, which is especially surprising given that they're heavily based on a 1931 song. (Not a time I associate with free expression of feminine libido!)

This track puts the spotlight on Simone's vocals, and allows her softer side to shine. Simone had an incredible ability to channel powerful emotions (as we'll soon encounter), but this song shows she could be just as effective in a more subdued setting.

Backlash Blues

Here we arrive at a portrait of Nina the activist: a series of horrific murders in the 1960s spurred her to political advocacy; this song, with lyrics penned by her poet friend Langston Hughes is one such example. The protest here is an icy cool, not a fiery rage—the guitar runs are gripping, and the whole piece drips with discontent (though not disempowerment).

The House of the Rising Sun

Surely you've heard The Animals' version of this folk classic. That's not the only time they crossed paths with Simone—their cover of Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood was far more successful than Simone's original recording (which allegedly led to some tensions).

I find Simone's take here jauntier and less haunting than The Animals'—overall I prefer the latter, but the bluesy roots come through more strongly in Simone's.

My Man's Gone Now

Far and away my favourite song of the album: every time I listen, it gives me full-body chills. I can't adequately describe this one—you'll need to listen for yourself—but the album notes give a good taste:

My Man's Gone Now was the last selection taped at the recording session. Miss Simone was physically and emotionally exhausted from previous recording, but she sat down at the piano and began to play and sing this moving "Porgy and Bess"¹ tune. The bass picked it up. From somewhere she called up the stamina to deliver with even more intensity and spirit a rare, perfect performance in one take, which could not possibly be improved.

Simone's life wasn't an easy one: her famous temper repeatedly got her into serious trouble; near the end of her life that volatility was formalized in a diagnosis of bipolar disorder. In so many ways, she contained multitudes: despite our inclinations, her music and legacy defy tidy summarization. I'm very glad to have begun discovering her story this week.

Favourite track: My Man's Gone Now